I have seen each of these. . .
And for one lifetime, it is enough.
About Me
- puddle
- Water gathering most days I wait through blue and sun till dusk or even later and the rose has faded to lavender, to gray some days, the sleet has started and the leaves underfoot are slick with ice somehow I'm never sorry and never learn one night I waited till the stars were out dropped the bucket into sound, only felt the weight of it filling and the night full of stars and the river full of stars and the bucket full of stars come morning, the coffee is also full of stars
3 comments:
...And I have seen the wild and red-haired WVA dirt farmer...
Just re-discovered my copy of an edition (1974) of the New Orleans Review, in which is a poem "A Small Autumn Love Song" — a tender memory.
How are you? Is winter still there?
-Stu
Our bluebirds are never that bright.
Please check out
http://www.tasinifornewyork.org/souloftheparty
hannah
Your Bluebirds are not that bright because it's an Indigo Bunting. Most of the season, *it* is not that bright. Just a coat donned for courting. . . .
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